


I'll Breathe For You

by thedagness



Category: Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Gen, actually this was hard to write, also the sentences are meant to be sort of incomplete sometimes, first time i'm in daryl's head yo, have patience
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-02
Updated: 2014-02-22
Packaged: 2018-01-10 22:50:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1165521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedagness/pseuds/thedagness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My feet feel heavy. Not sure how long we've been runnin' for. Minutes. Hours. The crossbow feels heavy on my shoulder. My breaths feel strained. Thick. Like I'm breathing through a straw. Can only imagine what the girl in front of me is feeling. Fuck. Her blonde hair swings from side to side as she pushes forward. Can hear her breath, strained and forced like my own, but the girl ain't showing any signs of stopping. Good. We can't stop now. - DISCONTINUED.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

  
_Have courage for the great sorrows of life and patience for the small ones;_   
_and when you have laboriously accomplished your daily task,_   
_go to sleep in peace._   


~ Victor Hugo

*

My feet feel heavy. Not sure how long we've been runnin' for. Minutes. Hours. The crossbow feels heavy on my shoulder. My breaths feel strained. Thick. Like I'm breathing through a straw. Can only imagine what the girl in front of me is feeling. Fuck. Her blonde hair swings from side to side as she pushes forward. Can hear her breath, strained and forced like my own, but the girl ain't showing any signs of stopping. Good. We can't stop now.

_Jesus_ , she watched her old man die. Would'a covered her eyes, given her that small ounce of mercy at the very least. If I'd known. Fuck, who am I kidding? I knew it was going to end badly. Beth stops. Almost run into her. Almost reprimand her but the words get caught in my throat when she dives to the side unto her knees and retches into the grass. If it's from shock or over-exhaustion, I'm not sure. Can't tell. Probably both.

Her shoulders shake. I realize she's sobbing. I swallow, trying to ignore the cold sensation that gathers in my stomach. I want to do something to make her feel better. My hands soar helplessly above her shoulders. Finally I pull her hair away from her face and decide to give her a moment. I don't know what to say.

"C'mon," I mumble after a while. When she doesn't respond I tug at her shoulders. I can't be soft. Can't be gentle and coddle her. There's no time. Have to be rough and cold, and it makes a sharp lump of guilt gather in my throat; we can't stop moving, we just can't.

"Beth, we gotta go," I grunt a little harder.

She doesn't say anything. I don't expect her to. I hear her trying to control her breathing, trying to gather herself. Her pale shoulders stop shaking, they're tense under my palms. With a trembling hand she wipes her mouth and pushes herself up on weak, shaking legs. Makes me feel like a pile of shit, but I'm proud of her.

We're running again. Beth in front of me. I remain behind her, watching, guarding, ready to take the hit of any threat that might have followed us from camp. Lost track of time, but it must be at least an hour since we last stopped. Wonder who else made it, wonder who didn't. I shake my head, snapping myself into focus. Can't think like that. Not now. Focus has to be on getting Beth to safety.

Something moves in the corner of my eye and a sharp gasp coming from the front tells me Beth's noticed it too. Walkers. Twenty something of them. Their aimless stride in the opposite direction tells me they haven't noticed us yet. I glance back at Beth, she's slowed her pace. There's too many of them. Can't ask her to fight with her bare fists. Only one option left.

"Beth," I hiss. "Get down."

She glances back at me and before I can warn her, her foot gets caught on a stone and she falls to the ground. Shit. I grab her arm to soften her fall, it brings me down with her instead. Fuck, I'm getting tired. The tall grass hides us, but I still cover Beth's mouth with my hand. Still holding her arm, my other arm serving as a cushion for Beth's head while I keep her from making any noise. We hear them in the distance, both grateful the noise is fading. Means they haven't noticed us. With relief Beth sighs against my hand. I glance down at her, almost flinching when I meet her blue eyes. She stares up at me. Something about the sad, helpless look in those eyes makes me feel like an asshole.

Not sure why.

We move on. Run through the forest. We meet a few walkers on the way, a few stragglers, nothing to worry about. I deal with them. It's getting darker, won't be just a few stray dumb dead bastards for much longer. After a while I notice Beth's forced breathing. It's different this time. Raspy. She needs water. I need a few gulps, myself.

Never believed in God none, but something must have listened to my silent prayer and decided to grant us this blessing. A small set up camp comes into view. Red tent. Remains of a campfire. It's completely silent. Deserted. I make sure, telling Beth to stay back as I secure the area. What's left is the body of the camper himself, body intruded, ripped to pieces and completely destroyed. Too little left to reanimate.

"Bingo," I say when I find a bottle of water in the backpack of the dead camper. I find other stuff in the backpack. A flashlight, some rope, two bags of beef jerky, even a neck pillow. Guy came prepared, only moved around with too much stuff for one man to carry. Part of what got him killed, I suspect.

Beth is watching the dead camper. I only notice when I turn to hand her the water. I follow her eyes. Feel like an asshole again.

"Beth."

She flinches, eyes going to mine and then down at the bottle in my hand.

"Drink," I tell her.

She does and I try not to think about how cold and commanding I am. Have to be, I tell myself. I check the tent. Completely empty, besides the one sleeping bag. I tell her we'll stay here for the night. She doesn't argue.

Can't sleep. Mind is racing with too many thoughts. Besides, much rather listen to the wind blowing through the leaves in the night than face myself in the nightmares I know will haunt me for a while from now on.

Beth whimpers beside me. She's wrapped up in the sleeping bag. She's dreaming. I see her eyeballs moving under her closed lids; can practically smell the adrenaline in the air. Doesn't take a rocket scientist to know she ain't havin' a good dream. Should I wake her? Don't need to. I can feel when she wakes up. Her whole body stiffens and she pulls in a silent sudden breath.

A moment of silence.

"Daryl?" Her voice is soft but trembling.

"Yeah?"

She sighs in relief. Her whole body relaxes. She was afraid I'd left her? Kinda surprises me. I move nearer, don't know what I'm doing. I drape an arm around her from behind and close my hand around hers. She doesn't move to reject me. Something about that makes me feel good.

"You alright?" I ask. Stupid question. I realize that all too late.

I hear her swallow. Fuck. It starts with three deep breaths before the flood gates open. Something snaps in her and Beth's shoulders shake with the sobs I know she's trying to hold in. I don't know what to say. Don't know what to do. Between the sobs I hear her mumbling something almost inaudible. After thinking about it for a few seconds I puzzle it together into  _Daddy_  and  _I'm sorry_. I close my eyes. Something hurts inside me. It's unfair and cruel that life can treat someone like Beth this way. Sweet Beth.

"Beth," I hear myself whisper. Nothing in my life has ever prepared me for something like this. Beth turns around, my arm still around her. She presses her face under my chin, locking herself against me with an arm around my shoulder. I stiffen. Don't have the heart to push her away.

I swallow, tighten my arm around her small, thin form as the hard sobs shakes her against me. After a long time she subsides. She breathes easier, slower and deeper. Almost asleep, I think and lay down on my back, allowing her to follow. Can't risk disrupting her rest by pushing her away.

I'm sorry, I think earnestly, wishing there's a way I can say it that would make her feel better, to make it  _all_  better. I'm sorry, Beth. Kid deserves better.

I listen to her peaceful, steady breaths. Guides me. Draws me in. Doesn't take long until I slip into my own slumber.

 


	2. Chapter 2

_Sorrow is a fruit._  
 _God does not make it grow on limbs too weak to bear it._  
  
~ Victor Hugo  
  
*

I come to, she’s already awake. Doesn’t feel right, ain’t how it’s supposed to go. Her body stiffens against mine; she’s practically lying on me, I can feel every movement; in this case, the sudden lack thereof. I expect her to pull away. She doesn’t.

“Sleep alright?” My voice is rough, sleep still traced all over it. I realize what I asked and want to curse out loud. Can’t seem to stop with the stupid questions. I know I’m walking on eggshells. I don’t like it. Just don’t want to upset her, make myself more of an asshole than I already am, and make her feel worse being stuck with me than she already does.

She offers a passive hum, I feel the vibration spread into my chest. First proper response she’s given me for hours. Not sure what it means, but I take it. I know I should get up, but lying here feels better than putting myself and Beth out there again. Suppose a few minutes won’t hurt.

After a long time, I notice I’m playing with her hair. When did I start doing that? It’s relaxing. But is it right? I wonder if it’s okay. Need to fiddle with something, I tell myself. Got no arrow in my hand. If she doesn’t like it, she isn’t saying anything.

The sound of chirping in the wilderness outside the tent is what gets me moving. She sighs, rolling to the side. I feel strangely cold without her against me. I crouch, open the backpack and pull out the beef jerky.

“Ain’t gonna lie,” I mumble, opening the plastic pouch. “We got a rough day ahead of us. Need to find some place secure. Need to find more food. Water.”

She’s still, lying with her back to me, silent.

Slip a piece of jerky into my mouth. It’s never tasted better. Must have used up every single spark of energy I had left yesterday. A cold wave rushes through me when an image of the ruined prison, smoking, infested with walkers and littered with familiar bodies flashes in my mind. Thinking about it now, I can’t remember if I saw Rick getting away. He was out in the field when the shooting started and then he… disappeared. Or I did. A familiar itch starts growing inside me; I want to go back. I want to go back and look. One glance at Beth’s stiff back and I come to the inevitable conclusion; _I can’t_. Lose my appetite pretty quickly after that.

“Hey,” I call. She doesn’t answer. Why’s she doing that? She knows I know she can hear me.

“Hey,” I say a little harder this time and give her foot a rough shake. “ _Beth_!”

She rolls quickly around to her back, props herself on her elbows. Glares daggers at me. “ _What_?”

Drop the pouch with jerky on her lap. ”Eat up.”

Without hesitation or so much as giving the food any consideration, she throws it back. “ _No - thanks_. I’m not hungry.”

Catch it. Glare back at her. “We’re moving soon,” I grunt, taking a step forward, starting to lose patience. I drop the pouch unceremoniously unto her lap, never breaking eye contact. “So you better fill up, ‘cause I ain’t _draggin’_ you.”

I turn around to leave.

“Then maybe you should just _leave_ me here!”

I stiffen. For a second I stand there, back turned to her. Resist the urge to throw something back for the satisfaction of seeing her blush in defeat. This ain’t Beth. It’s self-pity from a child, lashing out for no reason and I ain’t about to reward it. I snort. Sweep the tent flap out of my way as if I didn’t hear anything.

Turns out the dead bastard left behind more of a goldmine than I first anticipated. Probably shouldn’t be glad he’s dead, but I kind of am. Bunch of boxes beside the tent, practically littered with stuff most folks would probably only dare to dream about having in one and the same place. Rope. More beef jerky. Protein bars. Fishing net. Bunch of flares. … _Play boy_? The only thing that doesn’t seem to be here are weapons. One box is filled with clothes. Almost consider changing into a new pair of pants right then and there; my eyes go to the closed tent-flap and I decide against it. Find a knife, barely tucked in the dead guy’s belt. Small, easy to navigate. Savin’ that one for Beth. My eyes scan the remains of the camper. Something about the corpse ain’t sitting right with me. Can’t put my finger on what it is.

Plastic crackles from within the tent and soon after, a blonde head peaks out. Beth watches me carefully as she chews on something. Finally. I almost look at her, she’s decent enough to look ashamed of herself, lowering her gaze. Good. I squint at her, the sun in my eyes.

“Ready to quit acting like a brat and start bein’ useful?”

She swallows, stepping almost reverently into the light. “Sorry.”

Was a genuine albeit brief apology. I nod, fiddling with the knife in my hand. “You know that was a dumb thing to say.”

She’s digging her toe into the ground. Doesn’t answer.

“About leavin’ you. ‘Cause I ain’t.”  
  
Silence.

“I know.”

It’s brief, that doesn’t seem to matter; something about that answer makes me feel good. Hell, I can’t stay mad at her. She glances briefly at my hand and I realize I’m still holding the knife. Brandish it at her. “Take it.”

She does, hesitantly.

“Found it. Thought you should have it.”

For a moment she tests the weight of it in her hand. She’s smiles; I try not to. She looks to the side and I follow her gaze to the corpse. Something knowing flashes through her blue hues before she looks at me again.

“You found it on the dead guy, didn’t you?” Her voice is flat.

Don’t have to say anything; the crooked smile I can’t hold in is enough. She scoffs with smirk, walking passed me, brushing her shoulder against mine intentionally as she goes.

I shrug, turning around. “He’s dead; ain’t gonna miss it none, he don’t need it.”

Beth crouches above the head of the corpse. “Wonder how long he’s been here… He doesn’t look…” she frowns. “…rotten.”

I roll my eyes, turning back to the boxes, dismissing the subject. “That’s ‘cause there ain’t much left to rot.” Pull up the pair of pants I’d been looking at before. “Got the backpack?”

“In the tent.”

I grunt in response, collect the backpack. Stuff the pants inside. Should probably take as much as we can carry without slowing us down.

A moment later, Beth grunts behind me. “What’s this _thing_ underneath?”

Turn around to find an odd scene of Beth trying to push the corpse aside. It’s probably 132 pounds of half eaten dead meat, how damn heavy can it be? I don’t say anything. Shuffle over, give her a nod before we practically throw the body to the side. A hole in the lateral left side of the skull catches my eye now that I’m seeing the body in a different angle. Something flashes in the corner of my eye; Beth’s holding up a weapon. A… machete? Body must have been lying on top of it.

Something doesn’t add up.

“ _Pss_.” Catch her attention pretty quickly. I nod at the body, crouch over it and point to the gunshot wound. “See that?” She’s suddenly beside me and I try not to think about how I flinch. Damnit.

“Gunshot?”

“Mhm,” I nod. “Looks like it’s from a close range, too. Hard to say. But it ain’t self-inflicted.”

“So maybe he was with someone, maybe they were afraid he’d turn?”

Shake my head. “Nah.” Squint down at the wound. There’s a bite-mark over the gunshot. “He died before he was bit.”

“ _What?_ ” Feel her eyes on me.“How- how can you know that?”

I bend closer, despite smell. “Well, I don’t see no trace of any splinter. Should be a crater by the entry wound.” Realisation dawns on me and a strong urge to leave this place as soon as possible grows in my chest. Stand up and pick up the backpack. Swing it onto my back. “There ain’t.”

She doesn’t move behind me. Probably studying the wound. I gather my arrows as quickly as I can.

I think I hear her swallow. “A walker bit it off.”  
  
 _Bingo._

“Daryl, what does that mean?”

Try not to let the uneasiness in her voice affect me.

“Means we gotta move. Whoever got him is sure to be back soon.”

She looks worried when I face her again. “It’s like you said, Beth; he don’t look rotten.”

Something flashes in her face. “He didn’t die long ago…” Her eyes widen and she comes up right in front of me. “Daryl, we have to- We have to go!”

I nod, adjusting the crossbow over my shoulder. Gesture at her to lead the way, my hand lands softly on her waist and I find myself pushing her forward instead. Can feel her ribs without having to try; have to get her to eat more.

Frown when she doesn’t move. She’s looking up at me, eyes bleeding hesitation. Can practically hear her thinking ‘ _What if?_ ’ Don’t have to wait long for her to say it.

“It could be them.”

She looks impatient when I don’t say anything. Can’t do anything but stare back.

“It could be!”

Her eyes bounce between mine, searching for something I can’t give her. Don’t have the heart to tell her the foot prints I’ve seen – the ones that don’t look like an aimless stride from the walkers – don’t look they belong to anyone from the group, either. They’re bigger, deeper. Belong to someone tall, heavy. Dangerous. Don’t want her to get emotional again. It ain’t good for her, it ain’t good for me. Slows us down, makes us both unfocused.

She swallows, bitter disappointment slipping into her eyes, as if she can hear what I’m thinking. Before I can stop her, she twirls around, jaws bit together in determination and steps up to the nearest tree, shoving a few leaves out of the way. Can only stand and watch as she carves something into the wood with the knife I’d given to her. _Daryl and Beth._ When she’s done, she turns around and walks right past me.

“Let’s go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. I did not expect such a response to the oneshot on either AO3 or FF. I'm very grateful that you all liked it. I find it a challenge to write from Daryl's point of view, but it pleases me that at least some people have found it agreeable. I've never been in his head before so it was sort of a gamble; either it was gonna bend or it was gonna break.
> 
> So muse had me write another chapter for you! I still feel like I'm walking on ice, mind you. I hope you've all enjoyed it!
> 
> Please, tell me your thoughts!  
> What you love/hate, what you think was missing, what part stood out to you most?  
> Is Beth and Daryl in or out of character?  
> Do you like the writing style? It's a bit unorthodox, so.  
> Anything and everything! Good bad or ugly, just hit me with it!
> 
> Kaptenkramp

**Author's Note:**

> I'm trying to decide if this is a oneshot or a story to continue. I guess that would depend on how many people appreciate this chapter, the writing style and the idea. Thank you very much for dropping in to read and please, leave a review and tell me your thoughts!
> 
> ~ kaptenkramp


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